Revenge on a False Identity
by ShilohHolmes
Summary: Set in between the 2009 movie and AGOS. Holmes investigates a string of murdered doctors, only to discover that Watson is the killer's next target. Sherlock devises a plan to lure the mad man into the hands of the police before he can hurt his Boswell. It involves an oblivious Watson, lethal poison, and Sherlock Holmes stealing his best friend's identity. Rating paranoid:


_Hello readers of fanfiction:) This is my first fic about Guy Ritchie's Sherlock, as I have done a few for the BBC's show. This fic is centered around RDJ's Sherlock, and Jude Law's Watson. It takes place before A Game of Shadows, but after the 2009 film. I've had a severe case of writers block, and I wrote this to help me to overcome it! This wont be a very good fic, but I hope that it is still fun to read! The next chapters will be better:) Thanks sooooo much for taking the time to read, and I would really appreciate it if you would take the time to review. I will do my best to update frequently! –Shiloh_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes._

**Chapter One**

Sherlock Holmes

Sometimes the idiocy of the public could become overwhelming. Their stagnant minds failed to generate anything of interest, leaving me to wallow in the depths of boredom and self pity. It angered me to think that while thousands of people inhabited the city I called home, not one of them had the intellectual capability to keep me entertained. No case had come my way for weeks.

In fact, I hadn't obtained a case since the day Watson had left. The moment he had stepped out the door with his "lovely" fiancée, an un-ignorable urge to sulk and mourn had possessed me, draining me of any energy I could have used to assist Lestrade with the Blackwood/Moriarty case.

"Of course he left you," I muttered to myself as I absentmindedly tapped on the wooden side table located to my left. "They always leave in the end." I chuckled at the truth of my words.

It had really been foolish to build up any type of friendship with John Watson. He was a friendly, honorable man who possessed the highest level of tolerance that I had ever seen. He was ex-military, and quite the reliable and skilled doctor. It was only a matter of time until a woman would fall in love with my best friend.

Despite the warnings that seemed to constantly flash through my mind, I allowed myself to become close to the man. He seemed to genuinely admire my gifts of deduction, and he found the cases I solved incredibly intriguing. Furthermore, he seemed to actually care about me.

Over the years our friendship grew tremendously, and I can honestly say that I had never trusted anyone as much as I trusted my friend. He constantly had my back, and my faith in him never wavered. Watson was my right hand man, and I came to the realization that I enjoyed the company of my companion tremendously. Making friends had never been my strong suit, and it felt wonderful to finally have someone who I could thoroughly rely on. Watson was a true friend, and I couldn't imagine a life without him.

Of course, all of the happiness I had been granted was shattered the moment I found out that he would be leaving me. The one person who made me happy was going to remove himself from my life. Leaving me to a solitary presence once more.

I should have seen it coming. I had allowed the useless elements of sentiment and emotions to cloud my vision. It was pathetic to think that someone as wonderful as Watson would remain my flat mate forever. I have been told by a multitude of people that I am not the easiest person to live with.

_Speaking of a flat mate, should I try and get a new one? Would anyone want to live with me? Where would I find someone? Maybe I should start asking for a reward for solving cases? Should I-_

I was startled out of my thoughts by the sound of the door creaking. Mrs. Hudson stepped into the room, a tray filled with food in her arms. She offered me a reluctant smile and I turned my head.

"I brought you up some breakfast," Mrs. Hudson said cheerfully. The old woman had taken pity on me a week after Watson had left. I sighed in disgust. I was so pathetic, even my evil land lady didn't even have the nerve to insult me. "I also brought up the newspaper. Do you want me to put it with the others?"

I nodded in response, feebly waving her away. I could hear her sigh loudly behind me as she placed the tray on a table. Her footsteps echoed around the room as she made her way across the floor to leave, when they stopped at the door.

"You need to get out Mr. Holmes. This isn't healthy. You haven't seen the sun, eaten a proper meal, or taken a proper shower in weeks." My house keeper's voice was desperate, and I felt my shoulders fall.

"I'm fine Mrs. Hudson, I assure you that-"She stopped me mid-sentence, her face set in determination.

"I'll get , he'll talk some since into you!" Mrs. Hudson smiled and turned to leave, but I scrambled off of my spot on the floor to stop her. I swayed on my feet, and Mrs. Hudson rushed over to steady me.

"Please, don't get him," I mumbled, looking down at my shoes. "I'll wash up after I eat breakfast, and then I'll go for a walk." Mrs. Hudson helped me over to my armchair, a smile plastered on her wrinkled face. She grabbed a couple of newspapers from the pile on the floor, placing them on my lap.

"Alright Mr. Holmes, but if I you're not downstairs in an hour, I'm coming back up here." She flashed me a smile as she exited the room.

I sighed in relief, my body sinking into the comfortable fabric of the chair. I blindly reached for the plate containing my breakfast, my stomach growling with anticipation. Even the great Sherlock Holmes had to eat, I told myself.

As I bit into a juicy orange, I found myself casually glancing at a newspaper. The headlines were all dull, but an article printed on the side of the paper caught my attention.

**Richard Stetson Dies from Mysterious Disease**

The name was familiar, and I struggled to remember the man. He wasn't a criminal or a client, as I never forgot a name that was related to my work. No, someone had told me about Stetson. Watson!

He had been a patient that Watson had treated a while ago. The unfortunate gent had contracted a terrible condition, and had gone to my Boswell for help. Just as all the other doctors before him, Watson had to regretfully turn Stetson away. Nobody seemed to know how to cure his illness, and my good friend was know exception. It seemed as though his curse had finally gotten the best of him.

Skimming over the article, I learned that Stetson had no family, with the exception of his younger brother Harry. He had an elegant estate, and a considerable sum of money. Both of which, he left to his younger sibling. Stetson was a generous man with many friends, and no form of foul play was suspected. Boring.

Throwing that newspaper onto the ground, I picked up a more recent paper. The first two pages proved to be worthless garbage that even Lestrade would find un-interesting, but I was stopped by two articles on the third page. They spoke of the death of two well known doctors.

Both men had been found dead in their homes, no wounds visible on their bodies. The cause of death was unknown, but doctors were leaning towards natural causes. Neither of the two men had any enemies, and their financial records were clean. The police were calling the incidents a coincidence.

I snorted in disgust. There was no such thing as coincidence. I threw the newspaper down onto the ground, searching for the most recent issue. If my suspicions were confirmed, I would find an article on the death of another doctor. My fingers fumbled with the pages anxiously as my eyes scanned the small print for anything related to my thoughts.

"Ahah!" I squealed in delight. I held up the newspaper triumphantly, momentarily forgetting that I was completely alone.

**Franklin Benson, Young Doctor Found Dead.**

This was fantastic! It was like Christmas had come early. I jumped out of my chair, my weakness temporarily forgotten. I had a new case!

I dashed into my room, quickly changing into a more presentable outfit. This investigation was going to take me around the city, and into the houses of some grieving families. I needed to look my best.

Flying down the stairs, I rushed into the kitchen where Mrs. Hudson was working. I pulled my coat down from its spot on the wall, tapping her on the shoulder.

"What are you so excited about?" She laughed. I just beamed at her, my mind whirling. Finally, something worth my time had presented itself!

"I've got a case! I'll be back later!" I yelled as I burst out the door. I jumped down the stairs, my feet hitting the sidewalk with a satisfying thwack. Watson used to roll his eyes at me every time I would do this while he called me childish. I felt my happiness drop at the thought of my old friend. He used to accompany on cases like these.

_No._ I told myself. _Don't ruin this for yourself. An opponent has finally made a move. _I smiled at this thought, my pace quickening as I raced down the sidewalk towards Arthur Jenkins' house, the first doctor who had been murdered.

The house was a modest one. It was a pleasant yellow, with white windows. I quickly observed the front lawn, soaking in the details. I didn't think that anything outside would be incredibly vital to my investigation, but I didn't want to overlook any details.

I quickly mounted the steps that led to the front door, putting on my most sympathetic face. If I remembered correctly, this man had had a wife and two children.

I took a deep breath, fixing my collar. Then, I knocked on the wooden door.

A young woman with blonde hair opened the door, her pretty face aged from sadness. She looked at me with tearful blue eyes, and I could see pain and hopelessness etched across her facial features.

"Can I help you?" She asked quietly. I offered her a small smile, my eyes scanning over her person.

She was still wearing her wedding ring, and judging by the way it sparkled, she had recently washed it. The fabric around her shoulders was crinkled, and a damp spot of what I assumed was drool could be found there. Dark circles hung below her eyes, and the cuffs of her sleeves were soaking wet.

"My name is Sherlock Holmes, and I was wondering if you could tell me about your husband's death." I decided to come out bluntly, as the woman before me seemed to be the type that liked to get straight to the point. Her eyes widened at my statement, but she didn't break into hysterics.

"You're Sherlock Holmes, the great detective?" Hope seemed to spring in her eyes, and I grinned. She obviously wanted my help. "Please, come inside!" She gestured for me to follow her through the door, and I did as told.

"Thank you so much for your time. I will do my best to find the man who did this to your husband." I kissed Ms. Jenkins' hand, and she smiled at me gratefully. Her children waved goodbye, and I grinned at them.

Our conversation had been extremely informative, and it supported the idea I had conjured up of what had happened. It was subject to change, but I was pretty confident that I had already figured the case out.

Arthur Jenkins' had been the proud owner of a popular practice, as he was visited by a multitude of patients. He was a kind young man, and he didn't have any enemies. He married Miss Anna Shepard four years ago, and since then they had had two children. Jenkins treated everything from the common cold, to tropical diseases.

"There were only a few patients Arthur wasn't able to help," Mrs. Jenkins' had said. "The most recent was that gentleman who recently died, Richard Stetson. Arthur beat himself up about it. He used to write to Mr. Stetson frequently, but that obviously stopped when he passed." This information had been most beneficial, and I had ended our conversation shortly afterwards.

It was becoming quite clear to me that Harry Stetson was the murderer. He had become angry and vengeful after his brother's death, and he saw the doctor's as the people to blame. He was going to murder all of the doctor's who hadn't been able to help his brother.

I sighed. This case wasn't as complicated as I would have liked it to be. The villain was extremely stereotypical, just a family member bent on revenge. The victims weren't involved in an intricate scandal that linked themselves to criminals. I wasn't going to be involved in any danger. Why couldn't any interesting criminals emerge into the world?

All I needed to do now was interview the widow of Hughes Thomas, the second doctor killed, to confirm my theory. Then I would head down to Scotland Yard and inform Lestrade of my discoveries.

Hopefully I would stop Stetson before he attacked his next victim. _And who would that be?_ I wondered to myself. I stopped walking to take a moment to think. First he had killed Arthur Jenkins, the Hughes Thomas, then Franklin Benson. According to the papers, Richard Stetson had only requested the aid of four doctors'. The last one, was my best friend. Doctor John Watson.

I felt my breath hitch in my throat. I turned from where I had been standing, running in the direction of the Yard. My mind raced as thoughts swirled around my head. I had to do something.

Slowly, a plan began to formulate in my train of thought. It was risky, and I was going to need the help of Lestrade. It was a quickly thought up plan with a lot of holes, but it had to work.

It had to work.

_I am soooo sorry if you didn't like it, and I understand that it is choppy and uneven. I would have like to explain some things in better detail, but I just wanted to write this for fun! I'll try and update soon! Thanks for reading, and PLEASE REVIEW! -Shiloh_


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